The Broken Vessels

I want to begin writing about my little group of friends. We call ourselves the "Broken Vessels." We are from a variety of Churches, certainly a variety of backgrounds and most definitely a variety of walks of life. We are a microcosm of what the Bible calls "The body of Christ." What is the body of Christ? It is the new and extended family of believers in Jesus Christ which we join when we invite Jesus to live His life in and through us. He is the Head of the body, and we are all the building blocks which make up Jesus Christ's spiritual body as He lives exactly His life through each of us individually and corporately. We cannot be lone ranger believers--there is no such thing as a closet Christian. We are part of a vast network of fingers, toes, legs, mouths, hearts, hands, eyes, and even those hidden parts--livers, spleens, gallbladders. You get the picture.
I want to write about these amazing members of Jesus' body as they relate to me personally and, as we talked about yesterday, the "workshop" that Jesus has placed us in together as we walk through late mid-life together. We are what they call the "sandwich" generation--sandwiched in between leaving our life of raising children to now taking care of parents. There was a brief period of time when the children left home, married and began raising their own children and when the parents were still active and healthy, where we enjoyed a sort of respite from caretaking. John and I did a lot of traveling during those short years. We enjoyed each other's company, got to know each other all over again.
Our little group of broken vessels began as a small group of couples meeting together to study the Word of God. That was four years ago I think. Maybe three. It was after John got sick, that I know. They were all formerly of my Church but had left during a difficult period in the Church and were now attending Harvest. I was myself, sneaking off to Harvest; going to FBC with John and then after taking him home, going to Harvest. My son and his family were going there, and I loved the music and teaching, and of course, the fellowship with my little group of friends.
We were a group of couples, although John in his new state of dementia, had decided he didn't want to be a part of this group. The old social butterfly who loved socializing, had become reclusive and grumpy with this group. So, I went alone. How many times during our times of sharing, I sat alone and wept as these dear friends loved on me and encouraged me. Thus, I had learned through this experience that I very much needed this body of Christ and these broken vessels in particular.


And how can I neglect to mention that Jesus used my own family in this process-my own mother, sisters and kids and even my little grandbabies! How many times did I get in the car with my sister Linda and scream and cry when it got to be too much? How many times did she scream and cry with me? How many times did I go to my sister Pat's second house in Dewey, crying all the way and calling her and she had a word from the Lord just for me? How many times did I call my son Adam and he prayed the most anointed and powerful prayers for me, even once while he was broken down on his way to work? And Adam's wife Jeniece, sitting by John's bedside as he lay dying, reading to him from his own Bible, all of his highlighted passages. And how many times did my son Dane, and his wife Tasha just stand by my side watching as helplessly as I, as John vanished into the mist of dementia? The "ministry of presence" is as much a part of our ministry to each other as anything else, and that is what they provided and what my Mom provided. Seeing the fresh, innocent faces of my little grandbabies gave hope that there was a future for me, a future and a hope. God had moved a nephew and his wife down the street and they provided much needed assistance with house projects. Another nephew wrote a song about me.


And of course, there were my long-time faithful Bible study women who stood with me from day one, praying for me, providing financial aid at times, letting me go on and on while I taught, pouring out my own personal pain to them? These showed up after John went home, cleaning, shaping up my very messy yard,  and one couple who had moved to Iowa, sent me money every month while I waited for John's retirement to process (four months). What they sent was exactly what I would need to live on. These fragrant aroma saints did just what the body of Christ does best--when the Holy Spirit actually gets to operate unhindered by formality and programs.


There isn't enough time or space here to name all of the ministering angels who came to my side and continue to come to my side and I will never be able to thank them, or Jesus, enough for what they have given to me.